An oasis of nature

Not everything in Tokyo is hustle and bustle. We stopped briefly Saturday in the large park around Meiji Shrine. The shrine and land were donated by the family of Emperor Meiji, who re-opened Japan to the West in the 1800s, and passed away in the early 1900s.


Most of the park is wooded. It was relaxing to walk along under the trees, and interesting to see so many species with which we are unfamiliar. The pavement on the path was the only hint that we weren't deep in the wilderness. Our route paralleled the north boundary of the park.

After some time, we came to an open area surrounding the "Treasure museum," a large structure housing the personal effects of the emperor and his daughter. It was closed, but we spent some time at some nearby koi ponds. The fish were as large as the ducks.

There were a number of people about, but it was not at all crowded; just a few folks enjoying the pleasant day. I realized that one of the buildings in the distance was my workplace.


Another day we'll come back here. This is a big park, and there's much more exploring to do.

Waxing philosophical on public virtue

Before coming to Tokyo, I had heard something about the high level of public virtue that exists here. My Japanese teacher (a Tokyo native) had described her initial surprise at the unwieldy chains and locks used in Philadelphia to secure bicycles against theft. In Tokyo, most people don't lock their bikes; if they do, they use a small key-lock that keeps the back wheel from turning, but would do little to hinder a determined thief.



Our little time here so far does not qualify me to speak about lower crime rates, but I can say it certainly does feel safer here. Maybe this is because I have seen very little evidence of any sort of public wrong-doing. For example, two misdemeanors easily noticeable in most U.S. cities--trash dumping and grafitti--are conspicuously absent. Even jaywalking--a Stateside term that has become synonymous with petty wrongdoing--does not happen here. Seriously, hordes of pedestrians stand and wait, not just for the green traffic light, but for the green "walk" sign. And not just at the busy, dangerous intersections, but at small intersections, with no traffic in sight. I have yet to see a Japanese jaywalker.



And yet, I think it is more than just an absence of petty crime that makes me feel secure. Tokyo adds to the equation a sense of proactive public goodness that is hard to ignore. The other day I was walking to lunch with a couple of colleagues when a pick-up truck went slowly by, a message blaring from speakers on its roof. I thought perhaps the driver was selling something, but there was nothing in the back of the truck. A political campaign? But there were no posters, no names on the truck. I asked my companions what the truck was doing. "Oh," said one, "It is giving reminder to be nice to people and do good thing...like recycling, to be good..."


For a moment I tried to picture this happening in the States. A speaker truck weaves through Manhattan at noon: "Remember, citizens, be nice to each other, and to visitors! Recycle properly! Be polite! Be good citizens!" About the only way I can picture this happening would be if it was part of a sketch on David Letterman. We Americans are too jaded, too individualistic, and would rather not be lectured on public virtue. "Politeness-man" is a comic figure.


Should American city-dwellers adopt this sense of public virtue? The potential benefits are compelling. After all, here we are in Tokyo, living in the middle of one of the largest cities on earth, walking around at night in complete safety. What if New York was like this? My guess is that we'll never know. I think it's a matter of culture; less a question of "should" than "could." Too bad, in a way...

Thanksgiving

The Thursday of Thanksgiving Day in the U.S. is, I was surprised to find out, also a holiday here in Japan. It doesn't show up on any calendar I've seen, but I understand that is the way with holidays here. The official name of the holiday, according to my colleagues, is "Giving Thanks for Labor" Day. Some companies (mine included) give their workers Friday off as well. So it ends up much like Thanksgiving in the States.

Another similarity is that Christmas shopping is now officially in full swing. Christmas displays are in shop windows, and Christmas songs are playing (in English) in the restaurants. "Santa-san" is everywhere. Very few Japanese are Christians, but they love shopping and giving gifts, so this is a popular holiday in Tokyo.

The three of us spent Thanksgiving at the home of Joel and Michelle Johnson from the LDS Tokyo 1st Ward (English), the church congregation we attend. There were a number of ex-pats there. We had turkey, stuffing, pie--all the things you would get at a Thanksgiving dinner in the States. Everything was delicious, and best of all, we got to know some really nice folks. It was the first chance we had to really converse with others in English since we got here.

Today we went to explore the Shibuya shopping district. It was very crowded, with malls and stores in abundance. Cindy says this is the Tokyo she had been expecting before we got here.

Sticker shock, too, was in abundance. It seems that we leave for a shopping trip knowing everything is going to be expensive, but when we see the prices, we are somehow still shocked.

Plumbing pix

We've had so many requests for a picture of the magical toilet that I'm going to post one here. You can see the washbasin atop the tank. On the left are the electrical controls for the various functions described in the earlier post.

I feel funny spending so much time on the topic, but you know--bathrooms are something we can all relate to. In this spirit, I just had to include a shot of the amazing urinal I visited yesterday. The basic idea seems to be to create the illusion that you're camping in the woods. The picture may be a little hard to figure out; let's just say that the blue circle is the target. As one does one's business, sensors trigger fountains on either side to rinse the glass. Outlined footprints show you where to stand.

Neighborhood street

Here is the street leading through Azabu-Juban to our place. It has lots of shops and restaurants.

Our building is the one in the background with the scaffolding. When buildings are being worked on here, the scaffolding is wrapped with some sort of material. Our scaffolding is due to come down before the new year.

View from balcony

This is our view. The compound with all the trees is the Korean embassy.

Our new residence

Our new home is an apartment on the 7th floor of a 12-story high-rise. We're getting to know our way around a little. It's in a great neighborhood, though nothing like any place we've ever lived. It is called Minami Azabu. "Minami" means "South"; "Azabu" seems to be a reference to silk cloth, so perhaps they once produced that kind of thing around here. Now the area houses many embassies. The Korean embassy is visible from our balcony, and we have also come across the Bulgarian, French, German, Iranian, and Qataran embassies.

Across the street to us on the north is Azabu-Juban ("Tenth" Azabu). There are many shops and restaurants there, and it's where we've done most of our exploring. Last night, on our date night, Cindy and I found a tiny noodle shop. We liked it and will be returning for more.

Thursday night we walked over to the LDS Temple to see it (we are LDS, so this is an important place for us). It's about a 15-minute walk. I'll try to get a good picture of it to post. In the building right next to it are housed the LDS meetinghouse, Japanese MTC, and housing for temple workers and patrons who come from out of town.

Getting back to our residence: Thursday we moved in and had our orientation. We took a taxi from our hotel, and a fellow from the property management group met us at the apartment. He showed us how to operate the place. That may be a funny way to express it, but there were a number of things to learn. We have a key that lets us into the apartment building downstairs. Then up the elevator and down an outside (but covered) walkway to our door. There we use the key again.

There is a very small foyer with a marble floor. Here we remove our shoes (custom, and it's in the lease agreement) and put them in a small built-in cabinet. Leaving the foyer, we enter a short hall. A door to the right is C.J.'s bedroom. A door to the left is the powder room.

The only thing in the powder room is the toilet. Japanese toilets are really something. We Yankees lag behind in this department, I'm afraid. In the first place, the seat is heated to a toasty temperature. Then, after one finishes one's business and flushes, one has the option of an array of buttons which will direct mists, sprays or streams of water in various directions--with varying degrees of force. Finally, there is a "drying" button. There are even buttons we haven't figured out yet. They are all helpfully labelled, but of course the labels are in Japanese. Oh, yes--there is another feature. On top of the toilet's tank is a small, built-in basin with a tiny spigot. When you flush the toilet, the fill water comes out of the spigot and into the basin, then drains into the tank. So you can wash your hands in clean water without the need for a separate sink. This is good, because there's no room for a sink.

Continuing into the apartment, there is a sliding door on the left which leads to the kitchen, and door straight ahead which divides the hall from the living room. The kitchen contains a small refrigerator, a gas cooktop with three burners, the smallest oven you ever saw. Cindy has seen toaster ovens larger. She says the oven can only broil. There is also a very wide, very deep sink, and cupboards. We keep our trash cans in the kitchen, too. We have to separate trash into "burnable" and "non-burnable."

The kitchen also has an opening into the living room. The first thing you come to in the living room is a small dining table with four chairs. Behind them is a sofa, coffee table, chair, and entertainment center. Beyond that are the sliding glass doors to the balcony.

Out on the balcony is the clothes dryer--the smallest I've seen, though our agent said it was out on the balcony because it was so large. Our view faces west, so we get the sunset.

Also opening onto the balcony is our bedroom, through similar sliding glass doors. Our bed is not as large as queen size, but seems a little larger than a double. There is a nightstand with a lamp and clock, and a closet. Our room also opens onto the living room.

Between our bedroom and C.J.'s is the bathroom complex, which is different and interesting. It consists of two rooms. The first has a sink and mirror on the right, and the washing machine--tiny but new and hi-tech. Through a tightly-sealed door is the bath. The forepart of that room has a shower hanging on the wall. You take a shower there--the water goes all over the room. A gutter runs through the room to take away the water.

Before you shower, you fill the bath (you can do this by hitting a remote button in the kitchen, if you wish. The bathtub is short, but very deep. I can't lie in it; I can only sit. But I can fit almost entirely inside it because it's so deep. So the concept is: take a shower to clean off, then sit and soak in the tub. The whole system is ingenious because one person can be bathing while another shaves or brushes teeth, and yet the toilet is still available for use.

The Japanese like wood. All the floors except for the room with the bath are of wood, with a high polish. All the doors are of wood, stained to a deep brown.

Welcome to our blog!

Dear Friends:

Here we are, settling into our new surroundings. We've started this record to share our experience in Tokyo with friends and family. "We" includes Cindy, my wife, and C. J., our son, and me. I have been assigned to my company's Tokyo office for a six-month rotation, and Cindy and C. J. have come along for the adventure. We will all take turns posting items, and welcome your comments. Thanks for visiting!